


K'la'sa

by Zedrobber



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, spirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 05:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zedrobber/pseuds/Zedrobber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after ST:ID. Spock goes into Pon Farr in their 5 year mission- and Kirk has no idea what to do, nor is he sure he wants to know.<br/>Very much non-con, rape, and graphic violence.<br/>Crossposted from fanfic.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Eight months into their five year mission.

 

It was a different, older crew who lived in the Enterprise now; the events of the previous year had taken their toll on everyone, Kirk more than most. He was quieter- less brash and reckless these days. He relied on his crew- his family- more than ever, Spock especially. Spock was the only one who didn’t need to ask if he was alright; who didn’t fuss or pander to him. He was always very solidly _there_ though, just to Kirk’s left, silent and stoic as ever- and occasionally Kirk would catch him throwing him an appraising glance, just out of the corner of his eye, and it made him feel safer than he would ever admit.

The rest of the crew tried, in those early days; and of course Jim appreciated it more than they could know- but they were loud, and sympathetic, and full of “oh how awful, are you alright,” and it made his head pound and his pulse race to be reminded every waking moment that he had _died_ and the only reason he was still here was because his crew risked everything. He had seen Spock’s broken knuckles, healing after the fight with Khan, and he knew that it was a punishment meted out by the Vulcan on himself, a reminder that he had failed to stop his Captain’s death. That had made his gut wrench painfully even though Spock pretended it was nothing.

He also saw the relief on Bones’ face when he had woken up, and he knew that it had been a close thing, despite what the Doctor would have him believe.  He saw Bones scared for his life, and it was _terrifying._

It had been these small details which had affected him the most.

 

Spock had watched him die. The Vulcan refused to tell him more than this; his eyes dark and deliberately blank when Kirk pressed him for details. It was enough for Jim to gather that Spock had been wounded somewhere deep inside as well- he was just a lot better than Kirk at hiding it.

Their brief sexual encounter not long after Kirk had been revived had been a mistake; they were both hurting too much to be able to give anything except pain and rage and desperation, and it wasn’t enough for either despite the attraction they both felt.

Uhura didn’t know; as far as she was aware, Spock was in a relationship with her, albeit a non-consummated one. Spock couldn’t seem to find the words to imply that they should part ways, and Jim didn’t feel like it was his place to interfere; and so they drifted in a sort of stalemate, a triangle whose three sides didn’t dare touch, tiptoeing around each other in case the peace shattered like glass.

 

Kirk and Spock definitely did _not_ discuss that night; even if they had wanted to, the subject was awkward enough that Jim felt weird bringing it up with a Vulcan, and Spock felt embarrassed to talk about it at all. Frustration welled up inside Jim every time he opened his mouth to begin the conversation and stopped, throat dry as the words stuck on his tongue like sandpaper and Spock stared at him in mingled horror and deep, expectant _need_.

 

This particular shift was no different. The usual bridge crew were off duty, doing whatever they called relaxation. It was 2100 hours and Jim was leaning over the bar, staring out at the stars streaking past them in a sort of daze.

-

Spock had left the bridge two hours ago, and headed back to his quarters in an unusually tense mood.

He could feel something in him straining for release, a nagging ache at the base of his skull which he couldn’t quite identify, and which had been there for the last three days. He was restless, and meditation seemed to have no effect on the strange, almost feverish frustration he was feeling. He also seemed to be experiencing anger, though at what, he could not decipher. He paced his quarters, his hands balled into tight, painful fists at his sides as he attempted to logically understand his condition. He had not ingested anything unusual, nor had he been in contact with an alien life form within the last week. It was most disconcerting.

After several minutes of walking his rooms and examining his symptoms- and this was also disturbing, as he had failed to keep an exact count of the time- Spock had only two logical conclusions he could make. The first was that he was suffering from Bendii Syndrome. This was extremely unlikely, however, as the disease was very rare and primarily affected elderly Vulcans. The second- and most probable- was that he was experiencing the onset of Pon Farr.

Spock couldn’t quite decide which would be worse.

 

He growled low in his throat, his frustration rising as he realised the full implications of this. One; he was in space with nowhere to hide. Two; his intended partner, T’Pring, had died in the destruction of Vulcan, leaving him no potential bondmate even if he had not been completely and utterly unwilling to take her as his wife. And three; the likelihood of Nyota visiting his quarters tonight was approximately eighty-nine point three percent, a probability he was not comfortable with in the slightest in the light of his condition.

He had already been studiously avoiding her company as much as possible in the wake of the Captain’s death, unable to cope with the waves of overpowering sympathy and understanding she gave off with each touch. She was beginning to wonder why they had _still_ not engaged in intercourse; a reasonable query, Spock had to admit- and one he did not have a reasonable answer for as he found that the accurate explanation left a lot to be desired in regards to mutual understanding and satisfaction. How exactly _did_ humans explain that not only did they not wish to engage in intercourse with their partner of over a year, but in fact they _had_ _already_ engaged in said sexual act with not only their superior officer, but in fact, a _male_ superior officer, and found it more satisfying than any and all intimate contact they had shared with their current partner? Did humans, in fact, even bother to attempt an explanation such as this, or was the phrase “it’s not you, it’s me,” made for situations just like Spock’s current predicament?

 

Spock found himself irrationally angry at the fact he was in this situation at _all,_ and before he even realised it, he punched the wall of his quarters with sufficient force to dent the metal and bruise his fingers. It felt _good,_ so he did it again, and again, screaming inarticulately, until his knuckles were bleeding and his head was pounding. The pain reminded him of Khan, of watching his face turn red and unrecognisable under his fists, and that now familiar tug at his heart, the ache of loss still remembered even when reversed, tightened his abdomen painfully.

He knew he had little time, that his control was slipping beyond repair already- he could feel the pounding like a drumbeat in his head, could see the tension in his hands as they trembled minutely. It was affecting him more rapidly than he had anticipated, he realised with mounting dread. He needed to gain control. Perhaps he could meditate, dampen the effects enough that he could survive this without forcing himself upon anyone. Perhaps he would not have to embarrass himself further by revealing his condition to the Captain, or worse, to Doctor McCoy.

He knew, of course, that his chance of success-indeed, of survival- was minimal with meditation alone. Few Vulcans who attempted it succeeded, even with years of intense training and uninterrupted concentration-and Spock had neither; his control now hanging by the barest of threads, the primal, driving need to mate, to take and have and _claim_ as his own beginning to overpower his reason and coherent thought. Spock struggled to maintain mastery of his emotions, the surge of arousal and adrenaline in his system causing his hands to shake more violently, his nails digging painful crescents into his blood streaked palms as he fought. He became aware that his cock was almost painfully hard, the restriction of his trousers uncomfortable and maddening.

 

“Spock,” Uhura called cheerfully as she entered his quarters unannounced, a practice which had always irritated Spock even when in his usual state of mind. Today it merely served to fuel his rage, and he rounded on her savagely. “ _Why_ must you always enter my personal quarters without asking permission?”

“Spock…we’ve discussed this. We’re a couple, and-“

That _word-_ oh how he hated that word.

“A couple. I do not recall ever agreeing to become a _couple_ with you, _Lieutenant._ I recall a great many assumptions and liberties on your part, but not once do I remember acknowledging a relationship such as you believe yourself to be in.”

“But Spock, we’ve been together for so long-“

“Correction. You have been under the assumption that we were together, because I could not find the correct method in which to tell you otherwise. Have we engaged in intercourse, for example?”

“We were waiting…you haven’t had experience, and we wanted it to be special…”

“ _You_ wanted all of those things. _I_ wanted something else- and I took it.”

“Spock…what do you want? What do you need?”

That pathetic, whiny voice was starting to hurt his ears. Everything was painful; everything was blurred and tinged with grey like he was going to pass out, his brain ringing.

“I wanted the _Captain,_ ” he roared. “And while _you_ were busy _talking_ about _us_ and our _perfect_ little relationship, _I_ took what I wanted and I _fucked him.”_

He knew now he was gone, with no hope of recovery; his heartbeat thrumming in his ears like a call to war, his erection aching with the need to _take_ , to ravage and break the nearest body. He lunged at her  before she could answer, grabbing her shoulders, suddenly disgusted at the outpouring of disbelief, fear and anguish crashing over him from her. She was small, puny. She would break, and it would be _good._ He pushed her down onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head easily with one hand. She fought, she bit at him, freeing one hand to claw at his face even as he ripped at her clothing with the other hand, and she was crying, sobbing something but the words meant nothing to him now, his mind a haze of pain and want. He focused hard, managing to understand- “please Spock, not like this, we wanted it to be gentle when we took that step-“ and dimly he remembered that she was supposed to be his partner, though he could not recall _why_ he would choose to potentially mate for life with a being so weak, so easy to break and so suffocatingly, overwhelmingly emotional.

His condition was worsening. His mind reached out, the remnants of a pre-bond torn by death desperate to forge a link, to create a strong connection- and it faltered when it reached Uhura. She was _wrong._ There was no connection, no intimate recognition of her in his thoughts. Nothing it could use to create their bond.

His confusion turned to rage, the blood fever screaming in his ears.

She was not his mate, not worthy of him. Spock snapped her wrist like a twig as she reached to slap his face, her fresh cries of agony barely even registering as he stood, dragging her to her feet by her hair. “You are not mine,” he spat, enraged that she would be in his quarters at all, would offer herself when she was so clearly lacking.

He shoved her back against the wall, leaving her slumped on the floor as he exited his rooms and made his way through the labyrinth of corridors towards Engineering’s lower decks, using the last of his conscious thoughts to attempt to lose himself and avoid hurting anyone further before he succumbed to the _plak tow_.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Uhura to-to bridge.”

“Kirk here.” She sounded odd, breathless and upset, and Kirk answered before he remembered he wasn’t even technically on shift.

“Captain…Spock has gone mad, I-“

“What?”

“He…he’s not himself. He tried to rape me, he – I think my wrist is broken.” She choked back a sob, trying to stay coherent. “Then he ran off.”

“Spock did that?”

“Y-yes. I think…I might faint.”

“Stay where you are, Lieutenant.”

 

What the hell was going on? That didn’t sound like Spock in the slightest. Kirk called for a medical team to take her to sickbay, explaining to Bones what to expect. He cut the doctor off before he could ask a million questions Kirk didn’t know the answers to, his head spinning.

_Spock? Really?_ Anyone else on his crew, he could have found some kind of logical motive for such an attack. But this…he thought back to their own encounter. Violent, yes, rough and painful and desperate; but it was completely consensual, and Jim had never felt in any danger, had _wanted_ to be fucked viciously, to be used, because he wanted to feel _alive_ again. He shuddered with an echo of arousal even at the memory.

Spock was his rock. He _needed_ him to be okay, to be calm and reassuring and _there_ when Kirk couldn’t face another death on his conscience or another situation he wasn’t sure he could scrape out of. And more; he trusted Spock with his life, and if the Vulcan was ill- for Kirk could think of no other reason he would behave so out of character- then it was his duty as his Captain and his _friend_ to help, in any way he could.

 

He went to check on Uhura, shocked at her condition. All she could tell him was that Spock had looked wild and out of control, and that his hands were covered in his own blood. She was trembling and scared, a complete opposite of the self-assured, calm young woman he knew. Knowing he could do nothing more, he left her in the capable hands of Doctor McCoy, shaking his head at the doctor’s silent enquiry.

_I don’t know, Bones. Just take care of her._

 

His heart ached painfully as he entered Spock’s quarters, seeing instantly the bloody indentation on the wall, already sticky and drying. He searched for clues, noting the disarray of his personal belongings and the heavy scent of fear still in the air. Eventually he thought to check Spock’s computer, frowning at the last page visited. _Pon Farr meditation techniques_. The information was locked to Spock’s own personal voice code and Kirk didn’t have access; but at least it was _something_ to go on. Pon Farr must be an illness, he surmised, and one presumably specific to Vulcans.

He felt genuine panic; if this illness could drive Spock to assault his co-worker, bloody his own fists, and then disappear off into the bowels of the ship, then _surely_ it must be a very potent, potentially incurable disease.

He couldn’t lose Spock. If he did, he could not Captain the Enterprise. The thought made him momentarily ashamed; was Spock only a tool he used to remain in command? But the answer was clear, and had been from the moment he had woken up to see Spock’s worried face hovering over him in the hospital. Spock was everything, and Kirk needed him like oxygen.

 

“We need to contact New Vulcan,” Kirk said breathlessly, jogging onto the bridge.

“But-“

“ _Now!”_

The connection was made, and Kirk waited anxiously for the screen to appear, bouncing on the balls of his feet. _Come on, come on…_

“Captain?”

Kirk sighed in relief, sagging a little. “Spock, I need your help.”

Spock- older, _other_ Spock, raised an eyebrow in amusement. “I see we are foregoing formalities, Captain.”

“I’m sorry, but we just don’t have time. Your- I mean, _my_ Spock’s- life is in possible danger, and we need you.”

“How can I assist you?” Suddenly he seemed younger, less hunched; Kirk could _see_ his own Spock in him and it tightened his chest painfully. The older Spock was concerned, curious, and Kirk took in a breath.

“Do you know what Pon Farr is?”

Spock quirked an eyebrow again, his mouth twitching slightly. “I am very much aware of it, yes.”

“What is it?”

Spock thought for a moment; clearly it was difficult for him to articulate. “It is…a mating drive. An urge, deep and powerful, to bond, to mate with another, and to claim that other, usually. Sexually, I mean. It is dangerous and painful, and causes loss of control and emotional outburst which manifest as anger primarily. Vulcans feel this once every seven years; and I must tell you, Captain, that if the urge- if the blood fever is not satisfied in some way- it is fatal to the Vulcan.”

“Did you experience it when you were with- I mean, when you were in space?” _Don’t remind him of his lost bondmate, for fuck’s sake Jim, he’s clearly already in pain just talking to you._

“I did, and I barely survived. Captain, I had a potential bondmate, T’Pring. She did not wish to marry me, but our betrothal bond was intact and so she challenged me to a fight for her hand.”

“You fought the guy she wanted?”

“I fought Jim. My Jim. And I believed that I had killed him, in doing so.”

“So he could survive if we found his potential mate and I fought him?”

“No, Captain. His betrothal was severed when Vulcan was destroyed; T’Pring in your timeline did not survive. His bond will be broken, ragged if you will, and he will be seeking a new connection to someone he has intimate knowledge of. There is no one to engage in the ritual challenge.”

“Shit. Well, how can…how could a Vulcan survive this?”

“Meditation, perhaps, if he is not too far gone already. A ritual challenge, but as I explained, it is not possible for you. Or he must claim a bondmate. But I must warn you that a human would be unlikely to survive the sexual advances of a Vulcan experiencing Pon Farr; it is a violent, brutal time where logic and reason are stripped away leaving only the animal inside all of us.”

“Unlikely…to survive?”

“Indeed. What has happened? Did he attempt to assault you?”

“Uh...no. He almost raped Lieutenant Uhura and then disappeared into the ship.”

“Why would he wish to assault her?”

“Because they’re dating, I guess,” Kirk replied with a shrug, trying to pretend that this particular fact didn’t sting him a little every day.

“Spock is not involved with you?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “This is…peculiar. I was under the impression that you were both agreeable to a relationship.”

“I…well, I kinda died and things got fucked up for a while.”

“I see.” He sounded as though he did _not_ see, and could emphatically not understand a timeline where he did not have his Jim. This unspoken disappointment hurt Kirk more than words could have. In truth, he agreed completely that it was inconceivable to have _had_ Spock but to not be with him, but he found he could say nothing under the old Vulcan’s gaze.

“Thank you, Spock,” he said finally. “I should…”

“You _must_ find him, Jim,” he said suddenly, urgently. “It is a matter of life and _death-_ and sooner rather than later, I believe.”

Kirk nodded unhappily and cut the connection. “Sound a general alert; make sure everyone knows not to approach Spock if they see him. I’ll start a search with a small group of officers.”

\--

 

Hidden deep in the bowels of the engineering decks, Spock crouched, no longer in any semblance of control. Every part of him hurt, every muscle exhausted and trembling from the exertion of being tensed for so long. He felt his strength beginning to sap from him, aware but uncomprehending of the impending death he faced. His thoughts had long since reverted to Vulcan rather than Federation Standard; a loss that if he had been coherent would have embarrassed him immensely.

He rocked on the balls of his feet, unknowingly mimicking Kirk in the gesture, his head in his hands. The drive to _take_ , to _claim_ , now overwhelmed all other thoughts and emotions, a desperate, agonising battle in his head the only thing keeping him anchored to the spot. _Willnothurtwillnothurtcannot-captainmustnot-_ He repeated the words like a mantra, using every ounce of his remaining reason to keep him away from the rest of the crew. Some small part of him realised that his destroyed connection would recognise Kirk more than any other person on board the ship; and he would _not_ allow himself to hurt his Captain, would not debase himself by abandoning himself to his lust like some animal.

He dug his nails into his head, pulling at his hair in an attempt to focus his mind on the pain, and waited for the end.


	3. Chapter 3

“We should split,” Kirk decided as they began the search. “We can cover more ground this way. Do not- I repeat, do _not_ engage Commander Spock in combat unless _absolutely_ necessary. Set phasers to stun, and keep me informed at all times.”

 

-

 

Spock heard the ensign from several hundred metres away; he was making enough noise to alert half of space to his presence. Spock felt the stirrings of rage again, the pain that the extra noise was causing excruciating to his hyper-sensitive body. Why could they not leave him _alone?_ He had _tried_ to hide, to avoid contact, and they couldn’t _let him be!_

He snarled silently, lifting his head towards the sound. _Kill._

No. Do not kill. He struggled, desperately attempting to remain still and silent. He must not hurt anyone further; to do so would be to relinquish his sanity, his intellect, and his dignity- and he had little of all three left as it was. The pain was worsening steadily, so that his head throbbed with it, every muscle shaking with effort. The drumbeat in his mind was louder, insistent, drowning out logic and reason only to replace it with _killclaimtake_ repeating like an unholy, terrible prayer.

The ensign appeared, his footsteps reverberating through Spock’s spine maddeningly.

“Commander Spock!” he called, fresh agony ripping through the Vulcan at his infernal _noise._

“I must alert the Captain!”

“ _No!”_ Spock roared, lunging towards the ensign as he opened his communicator. He grabbed fistfuls of the young man’s shirt, dragging him to the ground and hitting him repeatedly, frenzied and powerful. “You…will… _not bring him here!”_ Only when the ensign lay unconscious and bleeding did he manage to regain enough control to stop, to back away into his corner again.

 _Notthecaptainmustnothurt-killdon’tkill-_ he couldn’t _think_ , everything was so loud and bright and painful. His cock was still hard, straining against his trousers and rubbing with every movement he made- an irritating, frustrating distraction to add to the roar in his mind and body. Every fibre of him trembled, desperate for relief, for release, for _claim_ ; and only the tiny, outnumbered corner of his brain that he still owned fought back and made him still. He could _not,_ must not move, or he would risk the life of more people.

His heart rate was elevated, his breathing becoming more shallow, laboured. It was only a matter of time before he lost consciousness and succumbed to death.

 

-

 

“Captain, there is an incoming transmission from Spock Prime.”

“Patch it through to me here.”

The older Spock’s familiar voice came through almost hesitantly.

“Captain…I feel it is prudent to inform you that there may be another way to help your Spock. I hesitated to announce this in front of your crew for fear of embarrassing you.”

“Go on.”

“My _plak tow_ was only partially sated by the battle. In order to recover, to survive, I took a bondmate.”

“You mean-“

“I took my Jim. But Captain, I must warn you-“

“I’m not sure I can-“

“ _Listen to me._ I used every _ounce_ of control I had, and I _almost killed_ my Jim. I do not trust that your Spock will be capable of the same.”

“I don’t think I’m-“

“If you cannot find another way, Captain, he _will_ die. I have faith that you will know what to do.”

“Thank you.”

“Good luck.”

Kirk sighed deeply, leaning back against the wall of the corridor he was searching. _What the actual fuck._ This day was just getting worse. He’d almost _killed_ his Jim? And he expected Kirk to just take that in and trot off to be – well, to be _screwed_ in as many senses of the word as he could imagine.

The knot in his stomach tightened, the concern and tension starting to close in on him. What would he do if he didn’t find Spock in time? What would he do if he _did?_

The options were limited; Spock would die without a mate and it was clear from what Spock Prime had inferred that Jim was the…logical…choice. But could he really allow himself to actually go through with it? Could he commit himself to possible death at the hands of the Vulcan, who would surely turn himself in to a life of imprisonment should he accidentally kill his Captain?

Could he commit _Spock_ to death by denying him what he needed?

His thoughts whirled; he felt nauseous and weak, sliding to the floor of the corridor with his head in his hands as he fought for an answer he knew he couldn’t give. _Spock, I need you to tell me what to do._

He knew already, of course; logical Spock would tell him to leave him be, would sacrifice his life for Jim’s without hesitation. It was possibly the only reason Spock had not sought him out- if there was any of his friend left inside his mind, he would surely be hiding to avoid confrontation.

He searched his mind for another way- _anything_ that would help- and came up with absolute zero.

Opening his communicator, he took a deep breath. “Kirk to search party.”

“Ensign James, Captain.”

“Ensign Samson.”

“Lieutenant Archer, Captain.”

He waited.

“Ensign Matthews?”

Only silence. _Shit._

“Where was Matthews searching?”

“Engineering, Captain. Should we assist?”

“No, no. All of you, just get back to your posts safely.”

 _Looks like we know where Spock is._ And it was logical, Jim had to admit; engineering was _huge_ and sprawling, full of tiny passages and dark corridors to hide in.

Which made it a little terrifying that he was going in there alone to face a really, _really_ upset Vulcan.

 

-

 

Spock knew the Captain was coming as soon as he heard the ensign’s communicator. He found it difficult to understand the words, but the concern and fear in Kirk’s voice sent a painful tremor through his body and mind, the coherent part of him screaming out to leave him alone, to stay away from him. Everything else- the animal, primitive, _desperate_ majority of him- recognised that voice and _wanted_ him. _Fuckclaimtakekillbreakminemineminemine-_

_He is not yours to take-_

_Mineminemine._

Spock scuttled backwards into the darkest corner, groaning helplessly as the friction on his erection became briefly unbearable. He bit his hand to silence himself, drawing blood that tasted far too good to his heightened senses. The ensign’s communicator lay on the floor, and Spock eyed it, wondering if his control could hold out long enough to warn Kirk to leave. He reached for it, his muscles straining as he fought to command them- but instead of using it, he found his hand clenching tightly and crushing the device into a warped, useless piece of metal.

Spock cried.

 

-

 

 _Come on,_ Kirk thought as he tiptoed through Engineering. It was so _dark_ down here, and his eyes struggled to make out more than vague, shadowy shapes as he walked. Spock could be anywhere, even just in front of him, and Kirk would probably never see him until it was too late. His skin prickled, a cold chill crawling up his spine. He tried to remember that this was _Spock,_ not some animal or strange, unknown life form- he trusted the Vulcan with his life, and he should _not_ be so nervous about running into him that his palms were sweaty and his mouth dry. He deliberately brought out the image of Spock leaning over him in hospital, his face a carefully constructed mask of serenity. His eyes betrayed him, as always- large, dark, and _terrified_ , then relieved and joyous as he saw Kirk was alive and well. The image was clear and strong, and Kirk smiled gently to himself despite his fear. Surely the older Spock had to be exaggerating as to the mental state of his first officer. _Surely_ nothing would sway the Spock he knew as much as that.

_What the fuck was that?_

It was a groan- he was sure of it. He narrowed his eyes, trying to see _anything_ in the gloom that could be the Vulcan and failing. But he _had_ heard it- was Spock in pain? Or was that Ensign Matthews, hurt somehow?

He was holding his breath as he moved forward, trying to be as silent as possible on the metal floors. He wanted to at least have a fighting chance of catching Spock unaware; without the element of surprise he would have no choice in what happened next.

 

-

 

 _He is here._ Spock panicked, the piece of his mind that still clung tenaciously to reason  grappling painfully with the animal lust that surged forward at the sound of the Captain’s footsteps. The ragged edges of the broken bond uncurled, searching for the human’s mind, eager, greedy for contact. Spock pushed it down, ignoring the fresh agony it elicited to do so, and curled himself into the shadows even further. He could not stop the way his muscles tensed, coiled ready for action, or the way his entire body thrummed with desire to feel the Captain so close.   _Kiv tehnau fa-wak stau nash-veh du, khart-lan._

 

-

 

“Matthews?” Kirk hissed, seeing the ensign sprawled on the floor in front of him. “Oh, _shit.”_ He checked for a pulse quickly, relieved to find one but horrified at the state of the young man- his face looked unrecognisable, pulpy and red. He grabbed the ensign’s feet and dragged him back the way he came a little before calling for a medical team to come and get him. He would live, but he was going to be in a lot of pain if he woke up before Bones could fix him. He continued on, the toe of his boot kicking a small object. He bent to pick it up, frowning in confusion at the warped communicator, not recognising it for a long moment. _“Shit,_ ” he said again, softly, turning the useless thing over in his hand. Kirk raised his head, staring blindly into the darkness around him and feeling horribly like he was being watched. It was how he imagined a gazelle would feel when it _knew_ there was a lioness on its trail.

“Spock?” he hissed, turning in a circle. “Spock, are you there?”

There was a shift in the shadows to his left, a subtle, inky blackness that was darker than its surroundings. He heard breathing; shallow, painful, and primeval. His skin crawled. “Spock?” he said again, unsure.

There was a pause, and then a reply came- only just recognisable as Spock. Gone was the neutral, formal tone Kirk was used to, and in its place was a guttural, growling snarl that was barely understandable.

“ _Kirk.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kiv tehnau fa-wak stau nash-veh du, khart-lan = if you resist, I will kill you, captain.


	4. Chapter 4

_Minet’nash-vehclaimbondtake-_ the sound of his name from Kirk’s lips had him crawling forward, eyes glued to the outline of his Captain. His night vision was superior to the human’s, and he could see the worried, tense expression on Jim’s face as he searched around for him. His mind reached out, sensing the one person it recognised; needing to touch, to taste, to _have_ in every way- and Spock couldn’t hold it back any further, the proximity of what his mind desired most driving his last remnants of sanity to the back of his overwrought brain, the pure, fevered lust to mate, to _fuck_ without mercy, overtaking everything else. His eyes were black, pupils wide in the darkness as he moved forward, his breathing painful and loud to his own ears. His heartbeat buzzed in his mind, blurring into one, droning noise as his pulse rate elevated to dangerous levels. It was almost too late; he could feel it sapping his reserves, the plak tow burning him up from the inside.

He said Kirk’s name before he registered he was even speaking, struggling to form a sentence as he moved into the dim shaft of light in the passageway where Kirk would see him. He remained crouched, ready; the faint call of Jim’s mind reaching out to his own, his severed bond groping for anything it could use to fix itself and knowing, _remembering_ the feel of Kirk’s, _remembering_ their brutal, violent encounter and the mind meld they had shared. Jim’s mind was familiar, comforting; to bond with it would be easy, with or without the human’s consent. His heightened senses were becoming maddening; Spock could _smell_ Kirk from here, an intoxicating, musky scent that his feverish brain could only interpret as _sex._ He _would_ have him.

He could no longer think in sentences; broken words in Standard and Vulcan muddled with each other as he fought to make sense of what he was doing and failed, his vision becoming strangely blurred, tinged with red around the edges. _Need – T’nash-veh-Mine-Tresahk-tor-_

 

Kirk turned, saw him, and his eyes widened in shock. He was alone. Spock felt the uncertainty rolling off him, could almost hear his mind whirring through possibilities. He moved forward again, staying low, his eyes locked on his Captain. A low, throaty growl came from his throat involuntarily; his sense of smell now heightened enough to scent the human’s fear and to revel in it. Kirk took one step towards him, hesitantly, his arms up, and Spock tensed even further; ready. His mind screamed out for contact, white hot agony ripping through his consciousness and blinding him to everything but the scent, the sight of his Captain. It was time. He would take what he needed from the human and he would survive. It was saying his name, he understood; but it had little relevance, the part of Spock who would do anything to hear his name spoken by Kirk long buried.

_Aitlu nash-veh._

 

-

 

 _Fuck, there he is_ , Kirk thought with an unexpected jolt of panic. _And he looks feral._

“Spock,” he said gently, taking a step forward. He raised his hands, trying to calm the Vulcan. “Spock, it’s Jim.” He scanned Spock for any recognition of his name, and saw nothing but flat, animal instinct in those eyes. “C’mon, it’s me.”

He stopped mid-step as he heard the growl, a cold, terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. Licking his lips, he tried again. “Spock?” Nothing from the crouched, shadowy figure in front of him.

 _What the hell has this disease done to him?_  

His heart ached to see his friend in pain- and so clearly, so openly. His whole body was shuddering with exertion and tension, his face so clearly in agony that it made Jim’s own body echo with it in sympathy. He couldn’t see the Spock he knew- the Spock he could perhaps love- in that hunched creature, and he couldn’t bear it. “Spock please, let me-“

_Let me what? What the hell am I offering here? Spock, please rape me to death? I assume Spock Prime was talking about sex, anyway- and how am I supposed to survive if my own Spock has no control to use?_

_Jim. He’s your friend._

_He saved your life. He has saved your life countless times, without hesitation or thought for his own safety. You owe him more than you can ever repay him- fucking man up and save him like he would do for you._

He squared his shoulders, and looked at Spock squarely, faking confidence.

“Do it if you must, Sp-“

He never got the chance to finish, Spock lunging at him and knocking him onto his back, the breath gone painfully from his body in one loud gasp. His head roared with the pain of its connection with the metal flooring, his vision blurring for a moment. Looking up, he stared straight into the eyes of Spock, crouched over him like a predator. There was nothing of his first officer in that gaze- or was there? He could have _sworn_ that for a flicker of a second, he saw his Spock, the _sane_ Spock, looking at him with sorrow and agony- but that may have been imagination, the look gone in the next heartbeat. He vowed to cause as little damage to the Vulcan as possible in this- though he suspected he wouldn’t make even a scratch on him in this state.

 

-

 

The very act of simply touching Kirk opened up the floodgates of emotion even further in Spock, the desperate tendrils of the shattered bond reaching out, threading their way through him to his fingertips in a futile attempt to unite. Spock ripped the uniform from Kirk carelessly, ignoring the human’s discomfort, only wanting to touch more, to feel _more_. His own clothes went the same way, thrown behind him with complete disregard. The passivity of the human enraged him; how _dare_ it not react, not fight? Spock grabbed at its throat, squeezing mercilessly until it gasped and squirmed in a desperate attempt to escape.

Letting go, Spock snarled, his lip curling, and hit Kirk in the face, hard enough to split his lip. Kirk did nothing, except look at him with those big blue eyes like he wanted it. Spock- rational, sane Spock- pushed his way to the front of his mind for a brief moment, his heart aching tightly as he could do nothing to stop himself hitting Kirk again and again, the human’s face becoming swollen and bloody. Finally the rage, the desire to hurt subsided a little, and Spock turned to the rest of the human’s body, leaning down to claw, to bite and bruise the pale flesh- marking it, claiming him as his own. _T’nash-veh._ He dragged his nails over Kirk’s chest, leaving red welts in his wake. He bit hard enough to bruise, ugly, purple marks marring the human’s skin and leaving him almost sobbing in pain, pushing at Spock to no avail.

Spock’s erection, still unbearably hard, pressed against Kirk’s stomach, the maddening friction as Kirk moved doing little to calm his need. He had to take the human, _now._ It was almost too late.

 _Kash-nohv,_ the primal drumbeat in his head told him. _Meld. Fix your bond. He is yours. Know him. See him._ An image flashed into his agonised mind; of him fucking Kirk, powerfully, roughly, his hands wrapped around the human’s throat and a mental connection open between them that he had not intended to begin. _He is mine._

-

 

Kirk writhed in pain, his head pounding and his chest on fire. He could barely move; Spock was pinning him down effectively, and he was dizzy and disorientated from the blows to his head. He could feel the Vulcan’s cock against his lower stomach, sticky with pre-come, and he was terrified at how alien it felt compared to the last time he had touched it. He repeated to himself that this was _Spock_ and that he could not allow him to die, and he fixed on that and used it as a litany to keep him going. Spock was staring at him again, black-eyed and silent, and Jim tried to open his mouth to speak, to try and reassure him, but then a faint echo of the image Spock was seeing in his own mind transferred, the sheer emotional weight of the memory sending it through their physical contact unintentionally. Kirk felt his own cock react to that memory, recalling how it felt to be fucked by Spock and how _alive_ it had made him feel, and Spock blinked as though he had understood, confusion flitting across his face before he was gone again under the mask of rage and torment.

 

-

 

 _Kash-nohv,_ the throbbing fever urged him again, and Spock could resist no longer, the small corner of his brain that was still _Spock_ losing the battle of his physical body for the final time.

He reared back, roaring, and grabbed at Kirk’s legs, pushing them painfully up towards the human’s chest. He felt Kirk’s muscle wrench under his grip, heard the cry of shock as he crushed the human’s ankle, and his desire was fuelled by that agonised sound. Without any preparation, his pre-come the only lubrication, Spock slammed his cock into Kirk, the human screaming and babbling “pleasefuckpleaseSpockno-“ which Spock ignored, unable to decipher meaning from the words even if he had wanted to comply. He felt something inside his mind snap back into place as he began to move, brutally impaling Kirk with every slam of his hips and completely drowning in sensation and pleasure. The banging of his head became louder, driving him to fuck Kirk _harder_ and to completely destroy him. Spock could only obey, digging his nails into Kirk’s shoulders and snarling wordlessly. The threads of the bond in his mind sparked, feeling the human’s proximity, and began to unfurl once more; and this time Spock knew it was ready. He reached up, never faltering in his thrusts, and touched Kirk’s face with his fingertips, initiating a meld, urging the bond to leech through the skin to skin contact and into the human, flowing through Spock’s body like cool water as it brought blessed relief from the itching pain of isolation. He sent the tendrils through Kirk’s mind until they found the tiny bud of connection Spock had accidentally begun when they had first had sex. It had been unintentional, but it had happened nonetheless, and Spock pushed and twined and grasped at it until he could _force_ his own mind around it- permanently. The bond between them was secure, but it was not _right_ , not _whole_  and Spock howled in distress, quickening his thrusts savagely until Kirk was sobbing beneath him, the connection allowing Spock to hear the human’s thoughts, loud and uncensored –

_fucknopleasefuckSpockohgodI’mgoingtodieplease-Spockdon’tkillme,don’tkillme-_

The volume of Kirk’s untrained thought was painful to Spock’s fevered mind, the rage returning. He removed his fingers from the human’s face, the bond holding tenuously, and wrapped them around Kirk’s throat again, feeling his Captain panic and begin to buck wildly. Near orgasm, and with a feral, ferocious grin, Spock pulled his cock out of Kirk, only to drive it back in with so much force it slammed the human’s head against the floor, dazing him so that he could only groan helplessly as Spock came inside him.

 

-

 

Kirk’s ankle was throbbing, the bone shattered, and his head was a mess of confused, half realised thoughts- and then Spock was _in_ him, and fuck it was worse than everything else put together, the lubrication supplied by Spock’s pre-come not enough, not even _close_ , and Kirk could not hold back the desperate scream that ripped from him as he felt his entrance tear. His pleas did no good, not that he really expected them to- they were words for words sake, because he couldn’t stay silent even if he had agreed to this and he didn’t think he could take it for long but he couldn’t make himself pass out-and he was breathless and this was _Spock_ and how the hell was he so fucking _strong_? It seemed like it would never end, Kirk knowing he was at Spock’s mercy- or lack of it.

Suddenly Spock was in his _head,_ too, dragging and wrenching remorselessly at something in the back of his mind, so painful it was almost worse than the rape of his body. His eyes watered and his head pounded as something seemed to snap and he could hear and feel everything Spock was feeling, and oh _fuck_ he wished he couldn’t, the chaotic, deafening roaring filling his head, Vulcan words he couldn’t understand breaking through the noise and echoing around his brain.

_T’nash-veh …telik…riyeht-rai,rai!_

He felt the Vulcan’s agony as though it were his own, unable to stop himself screaming as he waded through the tortured mind melded to him. His own thoughts, scared and desperate, were obviously bleeding through to Spock as well, as the Vulcan’s mind suddenly coloured in rage and Spock’s hand was around his throat again, squeezing the breath from him with no hesitation. He tried feverishly to escape, to breathe, but Spock just looked at him with a grin that terrified him more than he ever thought possible. And then his head hit the floor and he heard the familiar buzz of imminent unconsciousness as Spock came, his mind thrumming with the afterglow of an orgasm that wasn’t his as the Vulcan collapsed onto him, seemingly sated for the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T'nash-veh - Mine.
> 
> riyeht- wrong
> 
> Rai - no
> 
> tel- bond
> 
> Thank you to anyone still with me thus far.


	5. Chapter 5

His orgasm barely even took the edge off the tension and fury in his body and mind, the feverish throbbing in his head resuming mere minutes after he fell bonelessly onto the human’s sweat slicked chest.

The bond was _wrong_ , incomplete somehow, and in the midst of the plak tow, Spock could not use reason or logic to _think_ about why. He had done everything so thoroughly, making sure to wrap himself tightly around the deepest part of Kirk’s defenceless consciousness, and the fact that it hadn’t been enough frustrated and distressed him further. It _must_ work!

Angrily, he pulled out of the human, leaning back to slap him across the face, hard. Spock found he was sobbing painfully, and chose to ignore it, clenching his hands into fists and punching him-

 _Your fault_ he screamed in his mind, the human flinching under him and staring with wide eyes. _pleaseSpockdidn’tmeanto-_

_Ikap’uh t’du ru’lut-_

_Whatpleasedon’tkillmeyoucanfuckmeagainbutstophittingmeplease-_

Spock glanced down at the hot, mottled flesh under his fists, snarling as he hit Kirk again, hard, feeling his nose crunch and watching fresh blood spurt from the human’s nostrils. The scent of his own come and Kirk’s blood drove the blood fever into a fresh spike of need, Spock’s cock already half hard. He pushed himself into Kirk again, thrusting shallowly until he was fully erect. The human whimpered, his mind screaming.

 – _thathurtsI’mbleedingplease-_

Ignoring him, Spock drove himself in again, remorselessly slamming his cock into the human over and over, desperate to satiate the pain in his head. Kirk quietened eventually, losing strength to fight against him even mentally as his wounds took their toll.

 

The small, rational part of Spock hiding in the back of his mind wept to see his friend so injured; risking being lost completely, he pushed forward to take control, stilling his hips and sending out the one word he knew he could get through.

_Jim-_

_Spock?_  The hope in that one mental word nearly broke Spock’s heart.

It was too much effort, the precious reserves Spock was using up all but gone, but he sent one more word, throwing it out mentally as hard as he could, exhausting himself so that he had to allow the feral, primal part of him to retake control again.

­ _Sorry-_

 

Untempered once more by the rational part of himself, Spock slammed his hips forward again, too feverish, too far gone to realise or care he was killing Kirk; and too driven by his instincts to stop himself even if he had.

Eventually, the human passed out, Spock continuing to rape his unconscious body until he came once more.

 

-

 

Kirk couldn’t take much more- his body wracked with so much pain that he wished only for a quick death. _Everything_ hurt, his vision tinted worryingly grey around the edges. Even his hearing was fuzzy, his head leaden and thudding. He begged Spock through the bond to stop, hoping some part of him would react, but the Vulcan only responded by slamming his cock into him again, his torn skin bleeding anew. All he could smell was blood- _his_ blood- and the scent sickened him. He was losing too much of it; surely he couldn’t survive losing much more.

The thought was almost comforting.

He wished he could blame Spock- it would have made everything so much easier to be able to reconcile _his_ Spock- the gently amused, always concerned Spock- with this wild creature fucking him. As it was, though, he could feel only sorrow that his friend was reduced to such a base level.

His head thrummed with the roaring cacophony of Spock’s thoughts, anguish and lust and fear and need all roiling around in his mind, mingled horrifically with the echo of Spock’s own arousal which Jim felt as though it were his own. It disgusted him at the same time as forcing his own cock to begin to react, and he hated himself for it.

The agony stopped dead- for a moment, Spock’s hips stilled and he was looking into the clear eyes of his friend, and then-

_Jim-_

_Spock?_ he replied, hopefully. Perhaps this was it, perhaps he had survived after all and Spock was returning to him-

 _Sorry-_ Spock sent him, and Jim’s heart sank as the familiar gaze disappeared and the blank, black eyes of the primitive, fevered Spock returned, ramming himself once more into Jim’s ravaged body.

 

Finally, blessedly, Jim fell into unconsciousness.

 

-

 

At last, Spock’s desperate need to _take_ began to subside, Kirk sprawled unconscious beneath him. Taking the opportunity, the weakened, rational part of Spock took over, grabbing the Captain and hauling him towards sickbay. It took every ounce of Spock’s considerable control to manage this; utilising the post-orgasm dulling of the blood fever and his own steely determination, the Vulcan succeeded in half carrying, half dragging Jim through to the ship to the Doctor. He could understand now why the bond was unsuccessful; it was one sided, entirely Spock’s doing. To successfully complete it, Kirk must willingly give himself, wrap himself around Spock’s mind in the way he had forcibly done to the human. Spock didn’t know if Jim would ever agree to that after all he had been through. To consent to it would require a level of trust that Spock no longer felt he deserved from his friend. He would report himself to the proper authorities as soon as the plak tow subsided entirely, in order to minimalise risk to their lives.

He could feel that sickening, familiar throbbing returning, thankfully less intense and overpowering than before. Spock calculated- and how wonderful it was to be able to calculate again- that he had twelve minutes before being lost to his desires once more. He hoped that this time he would be able to maintain some control, the desperate edge to his need now definitely blunted.

Gritting his teeth, Spock hauled Jim into sickbay, onto the bed, and then stepped back, _finally_ seeing with his own eyes what he had done.

Jim looked close to death- in fact, a less stubborn man would likely have succumbed to it already. His entire body was a mass of bruising; blood drying on his chest, his thighs, his face. His face particularly was swollen, almost unrecognisable under a mass of purple bruises. There was even blood in his hair, tacky and brown. Spock gasped, unable to stop himself reaching out and touching the human all over gently, examining his wounds with the most delicate touch he could. “Jim,” he breathed, agonising over the prone form of his Captain, his friend. _How could I allow myself to do this?_

Everything began to spin, his vision blurring, and he realised he was crying; loud, wrenching sobs that hurt his head and his heart. He clung to Jim as though he could help, begging him to come back. He knew this over emotional outburst was a side effect of the Pon farr- logically he knew it, but emotionally, he was wretched and he didn’t care how it looked. He was a monster.

 

“What the hell happened, Spock?” came the furious, disbelieving voice of Doctor McCoy, and it took all of Spock’s control to not crouch over his Captain and growl possessively. Spock turned to the doctor, his breath hitching. “Fix,” he said wretchedly, his gut tightening as he saw McCoy’s horrified, scared expression.

“What did you _do?”_

Spock moved aside as the Doctor charged past, hooking Jim up to instruments and getting him stabilised. The wounds were next; McCoy managing to get them under control and stop the bleeding with minimum issues. The broken ankle proved more difficult, and Spock watched in grim horror as he recalled snapping that bone like a twig with his fingers. The blood was beginning to roar in his ears again, and he clenched his jaw, forcing it back.

“Spock, he has severe anal tearing- do you know if someone-“ McCoy looked up at Spock with flat, terrible anger in his eyes, even as he fixed Jim up.

“Spock. Did you _rape_ him?”

“Yes,” Spock admitted, his blood singing for him to take more, to do it again and again. He quieted it painfully. “I did.”

“You cold-blooded bastard, I ought to shoot you where you stand for this, you-“ the Doctor began to advance on him, fists clenched.                                                                                                                                                     

“Bones,” croaked Jim from the bed, “Stop.”

“But Jim, he admits it was him, he damn near killed you-“

“It’s not….not his fault,” wheezed the Captain, staring up at Spock. “He had to-“

“Had to my ass.”

“It…he would…have died…not his choice…”

“You make no sense, Jim.”

“I know.”

Spock felt warmth radiate through him, the agony in his head subsiding a little more as Jim looked at him and cracked a pained smile. “Can I go, Bones?”

“You certainly cannot, mister!”

“Have to. Needs me. Fix my rib.”

“I was _trying_ to, you stubborn bastard, until that _damned_ vicious Vulcan pet of yours told me all about how he brutalised you- and you seem to have no issue with this!”

.“Doctor, I have little time,” Spock urged, gritting his teeth. His hands trembled at his sides, his nails digging into the palms of his hands.

“Well you can just _make_ time, Spock, you half-blooded freak, I’m busy-“

“Doctor, I _must_ warn you.” It was becoming increasingly hard for Spock to form calm sentences again, his throat dry. Still, it was easier than it had been, and Spock was hopeful that perhaps he could undo some of the damage he had inflicted on his Captain.

“Shut up.”

“Bones, he’s serious- I would love to give you the long version of this, but I can’t. If you don’t give me back to him and let us go, he’s probably going to kill you, then me.”

“But-you’re both naked.“

“Talk to Spock Prime again if you must. He’ll explain. So can I go?”

“But-“

Jim unhooked himself anyway, wincing as he sat up. He wasn’t in much better shape- the bruising beginning to spread all over his chest, his eye nearly swollen shut- but he wasn’t bleeding, and he could walk on his ankle again. He glanced at Spock, resigned. “Ready.”


	6. Chapter 6

“You just wait a damn minute, you arrogant, stupid _boy.”_

“Bones, seriously-“

“ _No Jim,_ think for one second about this.” McCoy pushed on Kirk’s sore shoulders, shoving him back onto the bed with some difficulty. “I know you care about Spock, for some reason-“ he spared a withering glance to the Vulcan, who was looking more and more twitchy with each passing second, in Jim’s opinion- “But you will _die_ if you let him do that to you again.”

“Doctor, release him,” came the soft, quiet voice of Spock, and Jim looked up with growing horror as he saw him step quickly into the doctor’s personal space, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. He heard Spock’s mental voice clearly. _Killhim,goingtokillhimhetouchedmyclaim-stop, control yourself, this is the Doctor he was helping-_ like he was arguing with himself, forcing his body to submit to his control. It didn’t sound like he could hold out much longer.

“Spock, stop-“ Kirk said hoarsely, his throat bruised. “I’m coming. Please.” _Don’t hurt him._

“The hell you are,” Bones retorted, rounding on Spock. “You touch me, you mutated excuse for an elf, and I swear to God I’ll have you put in the brig faster than you can say your own name.”

 “I am sorry, Doctor,” Spock said, and Jim saw genuine regret in his eyes as he reached out and grasped the other man’s throat. He squeezed painfully, and McCoy’s eyes widened in panic.

“ _Spock!”_ Jim cried, anguished. “Stop!” He hobbled to his feet again, swaying dangerously. _Don’t let him kill Bones, not him, work you stupid fucking body, move- Spock, Spock for fucks sake, stop it, I’m coming with you, let him go-_

 _Help me-_ was all he got back, Spock’s mind full of fear as he realised he was losing his control again.

_I’m coming._

Jim gritted his teeth and shoved himself between Spock and Bones, pushing frantically at the Vulcan’s strong arms and screaming in his face. He was terrified, could hear Bones gasping for breath behind him, struggling uselessly. He had only seconds to help, and his body was weak. If it betrayed him now...

“Fucking stop, you‘re killing him!” Spock held on grimly for a long, agonising moment, before blinking slowly, his eyes locking on Jim’s. “We _have_ to go, Jim,” he said urgently, releasing McCoy’s neck and letting him back away. Jim nodded and pushed him back. _Wait._

_I cannot for much longer. I am losing._

He nodded and turned to McCoy, searching his face anxiously. He had saved his life, too; had known what to do when nobody else even thought about it. Jim wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the doctor- and it occurred to him now, at this ridiculously inappropriate time, that he had never thanked him properly, had never explained how grateful he really was. No wonder he was so angry about this. He had risked everything bringing Jim back, only for him to, in McCoy’s eyes, throw it all away on a Vulcan he didn’t even really like. He sighed softly, patting his friend on the shoulder and hoping he could read at least some of his thoughts in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Bones.”

“You’d better be, kid,” he replied, rubbing his throat and eyeing Spock over Jim’s shoulder. “I will make sure you pay for this, for what you’re doing,” he growled.

Spock shrugged gracefully, his whole body shaking with his effort to remain in control. “I will be giving myself up to the proper authorities as soon as I judge it safe for them to approach me.”

McCoy sneered at him. “How fucking considerate of you.”

Jim nearly cried at the sheer weight of McCoy’s emotion as he looked back at his Captain. He cared so much more than he ever let on, than he would ever admit to, and Jim hated himself for disappointing him, for seeming so ungrateful of the gift Bones had given him. He couldn’t even begin to put it into words, so he gave him a half-hearted grin and faked confidence. “I’ll be fine, Bones.”

“You keep him alive or I _swear_ I will happily take my revenge on you. I did not bring him back for you to kill him.” McCoy wasn’t even looking at Jim anymore, his fury settled squarely on the Vulcan as Jim moved back to stand with him.

Spock said nothing out loud.

_Jim. I cannot promise-_

_It’s okay Spock._

_We must go. I-ket’lio nash-veh, I-_

The lapse back into Vulcan was a worrying sign, and Jim took his hand, dragging him from sickbay before he could slip further.

 

-

 

 

 The walk to Jim’s quarters was excruciating for Spock. Partially, it was because he was naked and hard; not something that the usually incredibly private Vulcan was used to. It was also because he could see the damage he had done- was doing- to Jim, could see as well as hear in his head that every step was an effort, that every muscle ached even though Jim was hiding it remarkably well, his usual swagger firmly in place.

 _Fuckfuckfuck,don’tletthemseemehurting-_ was what he heard in his head with every movement of Kirk, and he reached out, trying to help ease the pain with gentle, soothing thoughts. The meld wasn’t complete enough for that, however, and he met with a solid wall he could not penetrate. Frustrated, he retreated.

_Jim. The bond-_

_It’s not finished, is it._ Jim sounded despairing, panicked, images of the last time racing through his mind as he recalled the pain and agonising _pulling_ in his brain.

_No._

He could feel his control slipping again, knew he had to take Kirk again soon. He estimated he had roughly two minutes remaining; hardly enough to explain the bond’s intricacies.

 _Jim it must be consensual to be whole,_ he got out through the increasing throbbing pain in his mind.

_How?_

_You must do as I did, in your head-_ he stopped, unable to think clearly through a fresh wave of pain.

Was it too late? Could he maintain enough control to refrain from injuring his Captain further?

Perhaps- or perhaps not. He snarled, pushing through the agony, his sentences beginning to break down again.

_Youwillnothurthimyoumustnot-ratherdiethanhurthimfurthert’nash-vehno,willnot,cannotbreak-_

Jim looked at him, eyes full of concern, and opened his door, shoving Spock through it and locking them both inside. “Go.”

Spock shuddered at the physical touch, his head pounding. _No, no- too late, aitlu-_

 _I’m here,_ the human thought cautiously, tugging on Spock’s hand and going to the bed. Spock caught the end of his next thought – _better than the floor-_ and he flinched to remember everything he had done.

Horrifically, he also revelled in the memory, the desire to take already so strong that he could barely think around it, his cock achingly hard even as he fought against the need. Kirk lay back on the bed, propped up on his elbows and staring at him, and Spock growled in his throat as he lunged at him without warning;  crouching over his naked body like an animal, almost losing himself to the lust and pain already.

 _Spock, stop._ The human seemed to sense that he could not listen or understand spoken language properly.

_Can’t,aitluminet’nash-vehmusttake-_

_I have a plan._

Spock grimaced, forced himself to still, his thoughts whirling. _Yes?_

_Can you hold it off long enough to get me hard?_

_…I...do not know-I-_

_Try._

_I do not know how-_ he admitted. _Pain-_

His head was pounding and red, his vision clouding again. Impatiently, he shook himself, blinking until the human’s face was clear to him once more.

 _Show me the first time,_ Kirk asked, reaching up to touch Spock’s face. The Vulcan nearly flinched back from the contact, snarling before he could hold himself, and the human paused long enough to grin; a lie, but one Spock appreciated immensely despite his torment.

He sorted through his memories, trying to get at them without being lost in the process. It was draining, physically and mentally, as he struggled to control both his body and his mind with the tenuous authority he had claimed in the aftermath of his last orgasm. He shuddered painfully, his muscles hurting so much that he could barely feel his extremities, the circulation barely reaching his fingers and toes. 

 _Icannotdothis,_ he sent desperately, but Jim grabbed his face in both hands and stared at him like he was terrified Spock was going to fade away.

_You can-that’s an order, Commander-_

_Captain-_ he replied, without hesitation. The warm smile Jim gave in return made everything worth it.

Licking his lips, Spock _pushed_ into his own mind, recalling the memory of the first time they had engaged in intercourse- the first time they had _fucked_ , he corrected himself. He pulled at it, and then sent it through their link, his own arousal growing as he relived that night at the same time as Kirk.

 

 

-

 

His mind flooded with the shared memory of them fucking, Jim getting it from Spock’s position as well as his own simultaneously. It was overwhelming, the feeling of being impaled on the Vulcan merging with Spock’s memory of slamming his cock into Kirk over and over, both of them clawing and biting and snarling like animals. It had hurt, but it was _good_ hurt, and Jim felt his cock responding instantly, arousal pooling in his stomach, warm and desperately needed after his ordeal. He concentrated on the memory, closing his eyes to fully recall every detail, every sound Spock made, every growl and touch of his hands. Soon he was fully hard, his erection pressing against Spock’s stomach as the Vulcan crouched above him.

 _I cannot hold this much longer-_ Spock warned him, but Jim pushed against his shoulder.

 _Hang on._ Leaning over, he grabbed a bottle of lube from his nightstand, squeezing some into his palm.

_Let me slick you up-_

_Oh-_

Kirk reached down, running his hand over Spock’s erection and spreading the lube generously. Spock sighed deeply, his face still as he clearly fought for control of his body, but leaning into the human’s touch almost desperately.

Lying back again, Kirk stared up at Spock, needing to know if it was him- the coherent, sane him- or the animal he was dealing with. He was confronted with a curious mix of both, the Vulcan’s eyes dark and wild, but _there,_ his own Spock staring intently at him. Jim couldn’t help but grin, the act quickly stilled by Spock’s mental anguish

_Can’tstopit-mustclaim,takenow-mine,ket’lio nash-veh-_

_I’m ready._

_-_

With relief that he felt all the way through his body, Spock allowed his control to slip, the exertion on his mental energy lessening almost immediately. He panicked as he felt himself slip with it, his head beginning to pound in earnest again as his body tensed ready for attack; and he prepared to fight for his mind once more.

The fight never came, the blood fever sufficiently dampened by Spock’s earlier assaults to allow Spock to remain partially in control- enough, at least, to be aware of his body and to stop himself tearing into Kirk like an animal again. He could do no more.

Grabbing the human’s ankles once more, Spock pushed Kirk’s legs up, carefully controlling the pressure of his grip on the still bruised flesh. Kirk winced anyway, his mind flashing with alarm and frantic expectation of pain. Spock was devastated that this was the reaction he elicited in his Captain now, and he stroked the pad of his thumb across the ankle that had been broken in apology.

The human relaxed under him, Spock feeling the relief in his mind leeching through their bond. His control was not enough allow Spock to be gentle, or even caring; the primal lust in him too strong, still too urgent to ignore. This time, however, Kirk was _with_ him, his own arousal still clear in Spock’s head, the evidence in front of him, and this satisfied the Vulcan in a completely new way. With a silent snarl, he slammed his cock back into the human, Kirk wincing painfully but intact. Spock forced himself to still for a moment, allowing the human to adjust before allowing instinct to once more take over, fucking Kirk viciously. However he had not allowed for Jim _enjoying_ it, the human groaning underneath him and digging his fingers into Spock’s back, pushing himself up to bring Spock deeper into him. The feverish thudding in his brain subsided, confused, and Spock forced his own consciousness forward again, lowering his head to bite roughly at Jim’s neck, licking across the bruises he had made earlier and groaning as the human arched his head back to allow him.

_Jim-_

_You hanging in there?_

_You are--enjoying this?_

_Fuckyes,moreplease-_

With a low, guttural roar, Spock increased the pace of his thrusts, Jim matching him easily, their breaths short and harsh. Kirk’s fingernails dug deeply into Spock’s back, the pain sharp and clear amongst the fog in his mind. It felt _good_ , vibrant, and he arched into it, Jim taking the hint and dragging his nails down Spock’s spine.

 _The bond-_ he sent urgently, Jim nodding.

_What do I do?_

Spock let his control on his body slip so he could send an image of what he had done to Jim’s mind through, the human letting out a wordless moan as the force of Spock’s thrusts became almost painful again.

 

-

 

Jim grimaced, shifting on the bed to allow for the increase in force, and tried to concentrate on Spock’s image. It was difficult, his mind already full of his own thoughts as well as Spock’s struggle, but he figured he could work it out as he went. He sent out a tendril of thought from the point where he had felt Spock digging around, the area still tender to investigate. Carefully, he allowed it to follow through the path of their mental bond, feeling it flow easily through him and into Spock like water, cooling and soothing his mind. Spock’s own head was mess; the usually logical, ordered serenity in disarray and spinning as Spock struggled desperately to maintain his consciousness against all odds. Jim pushed through the pain and the drumbeat and finally found the origin of their bond, tucked away neatly at the back of Spock’s mind. He explored the area tentatively, unsure how to proceed; eventually however, he discovered the same bud that Spock had utilised in his own brain, and set about carefully wrapping himself around it, much more gentle than the Vulcan had been.

  _I must tell, warn- the bond-_

_Not now, Spock-_

_It is permanent-_ Spock thought desperately, just as Kirk secured himself tightly around the Vulcan’s mind.

 _Shit-_ Jim thought, but it was lost as the heightened awareness overwhelmed them both, Jim suddenly not just aware of everything Spock was feeling, but _there_ with him, feeling everything so much more clearly, feeling the Vulcan’s cock impaling him ruthlessly at the same time as feeling how tight he was, how good it felt to Spock. It was _nothing_ like before, everything magnified in amazing, painfully clear definition, and Kirk drowned in it, delighted, as Spock, clearly feeling exactly the same, lost all of his control and came inside him. The sheer pleasure radiating from the Vulcan, the reeling, crashing wave of pure sensation, was enough for Jim to barely have to wrap his hand around his own cock before he was there too, coming against Spock’s stomach with a wordless cry of relief. The bond between them thrummed with life, taut like a fresh guitar string and humming with energy and sensation.

_Fuck._

_…I-indeed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ket'lio - burn


	7. Chapter 7

By the time Spock’s need was finally sated, Kirk was exhausted, almost unable to keep his eyes open, a beatific smile plastered on his face. His body hurt like hell; but it had progressed from complete pain to a pleasant, thoroughly fucked ache, having had enough sex to last him a whole month in one night. Spock lay beside him, content for the first time in days, his entire body relaxed and boneless. Jim knew he still ached, could feel it through their new, heightened bond- but it no longer tormented the Vulcan and therefore it did not worry him, his own body battered enough for the both of them.  He was still shell-shocked and amazed that he had survived the night, the memories of his ordeal still fresh in his mind. Spock stirred, looking at him with concern and regret.

_Are you alright?_

_Yeah, go back to sleep._

This bond thing was a bit of a pain. He could barely breathe without Spock worrying that he was hurt or upset or somehow about to die. Thinking about what had happened was like walking on eggshells for fear of making Spock feel even worse than he did already. As it was, he didn’t know how he would talk the Vulcan out of turning himself in- he had to, of course; he couldn’t Captain the Enterprise without Spock, it was unthinkable.

He needed the Vulcan beside him, always-he had finally admitted it to himself, could no longer ignore how he was drawn to Spock like a planet orbiting a sun, blinded by its light but unable to pull away. It terrified him more than anything. More than losing his ship- more than _dying._ At least when he came back from _that_ blackness, Spock had been there to make it better. He only hoped that he had returned the favour by giving himself to the Vulcan when he had so desperately needed it.

He knew he would do it again, would die a thousand times over to save that damned, obstinate Vulcan- and the knowledge troubled him.

Did he _love_ Spock? Could you call a series of fights, sarcastic remarks, and vague, awkward friendliness _love,_ exactly? He certainly liked fucking him, but even Kirk knew that was hardly relevant.

Or was it deeper than that? Were they _supposed_ to be together, in all universes and timelines, like Spock Prime seemed to assume- was there some kind of fate, drawing them closer even when they fought so hard against it?

That seemed unlikely, Kirk had to concede; the idea of fate seemed a little…cowardly…to him.

With a frustrated groan, he turned onto his side to look at Spock.

_You are everything to me, you damned, pointy eared bastard. Why can’t I figure out why?_

_Perhaps you should stop thinking about it,_ Spock returned, opening his eyes sleepily. _You’ve been practically screaming out your thoughts for the last twenty minutes._

_I hate this bond._

_You do not. You thanked every deity known to humanity for it a mere thirty-six point two minutes ago when you climaxed for the last time._

_Shut up, Spock._

_Very well._ He sounded smug, the bastard.

Gritting his teeth, Kirk concentrated furiously, attempting to think at a lower volume. He felt Spock’s amusement through the bond and wondered how Spock managed to stop every thought leaking through to him.

_Training._

“Aargh. I wasn’t asking you.”

“My apologies, Captain.”

Jim couldn’t help but smile a little, almost fondly. The Vulcan was ridiculous, but he was at least always amusing.

_I felt that. And, if you were wondering, I do not need to consider our relationship as deeply as you._

_Why not?_

_Because I am certain of my feelings,_ he returned cryptically, closing his eyes again. Kirk could get no more out of him.

 

-

 

Spock had been attempting to sleep for the last twenty-four point nine minutes, the fever in his blood cooled, the danger over at last. It was blissful to be able to _think_ clearly, to have his entire mind under his control. All he could hear was his own, calm thoughts, neatly organised- and the Captain’s, loud and chaotic as he ran circles around the problems that were plaguing him. It was most disconcerting, and also unnecessary. Spock had no such issues, having carefully and logically packed his own concerns and emotions away twenty-eight point six minutes ago after a satisfying and sensible conclusion.

There he was again, repeating the same sentiments over and over. Spock allowed himself a small moment of affection despite his need to sleep. The Captain was amusing, even with his irritatingly loud thought patterns, and Spock could not deny that Jim’s worrying about his feelings was endearing. Spock, of course, knew exactly how Jim felt, having access to the human’s entire mind. He just felt it more appropriate to allow Kirk to come to the correct conclusions himself- which he would, given enough time. Jim always saw it his way eventually.

 

He hoped the human would learn to manage the Enterprise without him. He had to pay for what he had done, for the pain he had caused to the man he cared for the most deeply. Nothing he could say or do would ever make amends for the horror, the mortifying loss of control he had forced upon his Captain, or the humiliation Jim had endured at his hands. For surely it was unendurable, to be forced, taken like an animal, beaten and broken to another’s will over and over. The fact that Jim was blaming _himself_ for all of this was devastating; and it was somehow even more painful to know that Jim would still wish him to stay.

And there was Nyota. He had caused her pain also, had broken her wrist without pause. He was not looking forward to facing her, nor could he explain adequately the bond that now tied himself and Kirk, eliminating any possibility of their resuming a romantic relationship even if she desired to. However, he calculated the possibility of this scenario at less than three percent, which was somewhat of a relief despite his feelings of guilt.

He chose to ignore Jim’s further questions regarding his emotion, not wishing to place any additional pressure on his final decision. Eventually the human gave up, sprawling himself over Spock’s body comfortably and falling asleep. Spock remained awake until Kirk’s mental patterns became regular and soft, wanting to remember the sound and feel of him sleeping just once.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

Kirk awoke in an empty bed, instantly alert and terrified Spock had been arrested.  _OhfuckSpockwhereareyou-_

_Calm, Jim. I am speaking with Nyota._

_Oh-_

_I will return._

Jim sat up slowly, wincing.  _I’ll go see Bones._ He had to admit that the bond was useful for some things, although now that he was aware of it, he could feel the tension in Spock’s mind as he spoke to the Lieutenant, and it niggled at the back of his head like a fly.

Dressing was an effort, every muscle protesting, but he got there eventually, a little out of breath as he walked out into the corridor.

 

McCoy was sterilising equipment and checking the vital signs on Ensign Matthews, not facing Jim as he entered sickbay. Jim hesitated, seeing the ring of bruises that surrounded his neck and grimacing at the recollection of Spock’s actions.  _Oh, he is gonna kill me._

Mercifully, Spock remained silent, probably deep in discussion or apologies with Uhura.

“Bones.”

Doctor McCoy turned, regarding Kirk with an unreadable expression. “Jim.”

Awkwardly, Kirk perched on the edge of a biobed, scrubbing his hand through his hair as he thought of what to say.  He huffed out a breath, and McCoy folded his arms across his chest silently.

_How do I even begin to explain this, how do I apologise for – everything? He must have thought I was throwing my life away for Spock. How fucking ungrateful do I look, pretty much just going “fuck you and thanks for bringing me back.” He doesn’t understand- how can I make him see-_

Finally, he just started talking, hoping his words would make sense somehow.

“Is Matthews going to be alright?”

“Yes, he’s stable- he took more of a beating than I have ever seen on anyone except you, but he’s strong.” Jim nodded, looking at the sleeping Ensign with relief.

“Look- Bones. I know you’re pissed-“

“Damn right I am-“

“Shut up a second. I know you’re pissed at me, and I know why. I guess I behaved like a fucking prick yesterday and you were right to try and stop me.”

“That isn’t the half of it.”

“And I never told you how grateful I am that you fought so hard to bring me back.”

He paused for a second. “I saw…when I woke up? I saw how scared you were, Bones. I  _know_  how hard it was to make it work.  _Thank you._ ”

McCoy raised an eyebrow, eerily like Spock. “Well Jim, that isn’t what I thought you’d open your apology with.”

“Yeah,” Jim agreed. “But it had to be said. And- I am sorry, Bones. I shouldn’t have let him bring me here when he was like that-it wasn’t safe and he could have killed you- I never meant to get you hurt.” Kirk shrugged expansively, unable to get the right words out. “Shit Bones, I can’t.”

“You could have died. Again.”

“I didn’t.”

“No thanks to that pointy eared, green blooded, useless excuse for a first officer-“

“You know as well as I do that it wasn’t his fault- he wasn’t in control-“

“I know that, you idiot- I talked to Spock Prime after your Spock decided to nearly throttle me to death and he explained enough to stop me killing him on sight. Doesn’t mean I’m happy.”

“Well…”

“And I’m even  _less_  happy with you, you stupid, irresponsible bastard! You just  _let_ him, didn’t you? There were no marks on him- nothing to indicate defence at all. Like you just allowed him to...to brutalize you, Jim.”

“I did.”

“Damn it- he nearly ripped you to shreds!”

“I  _had_  to, Bones.”

“You did not-“

“ _Bones!_ ”

“Oh, good God- you love him, don’t you?”

“I never said that-he saved my life, he has done a thousand times. I had to-”

“You’re a damned shitty liar, Jim- even to yourself.”

“I-“

Spock arrived in sickbay, the sudden silence between them almost physical. McCoy became icy instantly.

“Doctor, Captain.”

_That timing was either amazing or fucking awful, Spock._

_My apologies, I assumed you would be in need of assistance._

_I’m not sure I don’t._

Spock turned his attention to McCoy. “Doctor, I must apologise for my unseemly conduct yesterday. I am …grieved…that I caused you injury, and I hope it will reassure you to know that I am preparing to contact Starfleet in a few minutes in order to hand myself over to the authorities. You will be required to present a testimony against me, as will the Captain.”

_Spockyoucan’tdothisIneedyou-_

_I must._

Unexpectedly, McCoy spoke. “Spock…it…pains me to say this, but I’m not going to be presenting any kind of testimony against you. Neither will Jim.”

“But, Doctor-“

“Shut up, Spock, I don’t want you getting all emotional at me. I can’t explain it-“ he shot a pointed look at Kirk “-but there it is. I accept your damned apology. Now both of you get the hell out of my sickbay.”

Kirk gave him a grateful glance.

 

-

 

Spock’s conversation with Nyota had gone according to his calculations.

She was terrified of him when he first appeared at her quarters; flinching back like a scared animal.

“Nyota. Are you…well?”

_That was a completely unnecessary question, Spock._

“Yes, Commander.” She regained enough of her composure to look angry, stepping into her doorway with folded arms. “Can I help you?”

“I was hoping to speak to you in private.”

“I’m…not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I can assure you that I fully intend to hand myself over to the authorities as soon as I have concluded some business. I do not intend you any harm.”

She stepped aside and gestured him in, tersely.

 

“I am most sorry for the injury I caused to you, Nyota. I was not myself, as I am sure the good Doctor has explained to you. I am aware, however, that it is my error and therefore my responsibility to allow the course of justice to be carried out.”

“He did explain it to me- but Spock, why couldn’t you? We ar- we  _were_  dating,” she said softly, and Spock was left in no doubt as to the status of their rather stagnant relationship. He felt some regret at this; although he had had little desire or attraction towards Nyota, she had been an intelligent and stimulating debating partner and they had engaged in many fascinating conversations. He also felt guilt; gnawing, deep, painful guilt, at the way she could barely meet his eyes and how she sat as far away from him as she could, despite her quarters being small.

“I did not wish to burden you, Nyota,” he replied completely truthfully. “It is a private, personal matter, and not one shared lightly among my people.”

“You said that you…had sex with the Captain.”

“I…cannot lie.”

Spock’s heart twisted at her disappointment; clearly she had expected better of him.

“Is Jim alright?”

_No, I broke his body and perhaps even his soul. He looks at me like he doesn’t know me, flinches from my touch, and still forgives me in everything I have done. And he knows how he feels for me, but refuses to admit it to even himself, because the alternative is so hideous, I am so hideous, that he would rather pretend to not see me. I do not think he is “alright,” and I grieve for him._

“He is well. Why do you ask?”

“I know that you…I know that he helped you,” was all she would say on the subject, and Spock found himself flushing in embarrassment at the thought that the whole crew probably knew, to some extent.

“He allowed my survival.”

_He let me break him, fuck him without mercy until he screamed and begged and cried. I commited an atrocity against my superior officer- and my friend. K’la’sa. What have I done._

_What’s K’la’sa?_ Kirk asked him through their bond.

_I’ll explain later. Go and talk to the doctor like you said._

“I am most grateful to him.”

 

“I am glad he – and you- are alive. I have requested a reassignment to the USS Farragut, Spock.”

“Excuse me?”

“They will be passing within range today, and I have requested to be transferred there for six months. I went over the Captain’s head, straight to Starfleet command.”

Her eyes told him the rest-  _I can’t stay here and see you two every day, not right now, not like this._  Spock nodded, carefully neutral.

“I’ll come back,” she added. “When the time is right.”

“You will be sorely missed. Your skills as a lieutenant are exceptional.”

“If only you were as romantic as you are complimentary, Spock.”

“I was merely stating facts. Nyota, you will be required to submit a testimony regarding my assault on your person.”

“I’m not submitting anything, Spock, you dumb ass. You have to stay here.”

“I do not follow you.”

“Your place? It’s here. It always has been. Now get out of my quarters, you make them look even smaller than they are.”

“Goodbye, Nyota.”

 

He seemed to be interrupting something in sickbay. He was most confused over Nyota’s refusal to submit a report, and so he did not notice immediately that the tension in the air was thick enough to cut. The Doctor appeared to be angry with Jim, and his own attempt at an apology seemed to irritate him further. Spock didn’t understand what that look between them was about, but it seemed to make Jim feel really good, if their bond was working correctly. The Doctor seemed to lose his anger, however, when he responded to Spock- a most disconcerting reply indeed. Nobody on this ship seemed willing to allow Spock to carry out his duty and allow himself to be captured by the authorities! It was most illogical; they knew it was him who had committed these crimes, and yet they seemed to wish to allow him to remain unpunished.

Leaving sickbay with Jim, he was wondering about all of these things.

_Spock, you should probably just accept that we don’t want to lose you._

_But Captain- I have behaved appallingly._

_Not your fault._

_I have business, Captain. I shall return._

He left quickly, veering off down a corridor towards communications. He had to send that message to Starfleet. It was his duty to pay for his actions.

 

-

 

 _Spock?_  Jim thought suspiciously, when the link between them had been silent for a few minutes.  _Spock what are you doing?_

_I am merely…clearing up some unfinished bus-_

_Spock you dare send that message and I will personally kill you-_ Jim began to run, haphazardly, his foot still painful.  _Justwait,pleasedon’t-_

The link was silent again, and Jim growled in frustration as he pushed past crewmembers too slow to get out of his path.  _I meant it, Spock don’t leave me- not you-_

He reached communications and didn’t stop to think, throwing himself at Spock and shoving him away from the console. “You- will-  _not do this-“_  he gasped between pained, harsh breaths. “I can’t lose you.”

“But Captain-“

“That is an  _order,_ Mr. Spock. You will  _not_  disobey me.” They struggled for a few moments more, until finally Spock relaxed. “Yes…Captain.” He seemed to deflate, and Jim got a brief glimpse of his thoughts before he controlled himself.

_He has to look at me every day and remember-_

“Transporter room to Captain Kirk,” chirped the intercom at the wrong moment.

“Kirk here.”

“Captain, there is a Vulcan ambassador here, he just beamed aboard. He’s saying his name is Spock- but-he’s old, Captain.”

“ _What?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> K'la'sa = rape


	9. Chapter 9

 

There was a moment of shocked, disbelieving silence between Spock and Kirk, Kirk still with his hands grabbing Spock’s shoulders. _SpockwhyisSpockPrimehere-_

_I do not know, but I suspect it isn’t an ambassadorial visit._

_No shit._

Spock remained silent rather than commenting on that last thought, but his eyebrow raised in an almost amused way, and Kirk grinned. Spock reached up to disengage Jim’s hands, and the human flinched before he could stop himself, flushing immediately. _Sorry Spock-didn’t mean-_

 _It is quite understandable, Captain,_ Spock replied, but his eyes were sad and Jim cursed himself. Logically, he knew that nothing Spock had done had been deliberate or with intent; but his body was finding it difficult to comprehend. He made a conscious effort to pat Spock’s shoulders slowly before releasing him, making eye contact. _I am trying._

 _I know, Captain._ The acceptance and sorrow in his mental voice nearly broke Jim’s heart.

“We’re coming to the transporter room,” he called to the intercom.

 

It was indeed Spock Prime, and Kirk found himself incredibly glad to see him again. Spock too seemed pleased, his mind warm and calm around Jim’s. The old Vulcan was smartly dressed, serene looking. “Captain. Spock.”

“Spock,” his own Spock said with an amused expression. Jim found this almost unbearably funny and told Spock as much through their bond. He was gratified to see a twitch of the Vulcan’s lips which was almost a smile.

Spock Prime looked between them curiously. “I see you survived,” he said cautiously, and Jim wasn’t sure to which one of them he was referring. The Captain began to lead them all from the transporter room, the door swishing behind them.

“We did,” Jim replied. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but … why are you here?”

Spock Prime chuckled quietly, an odd sound from a Vulcan and yet somehow completely natural to this man. “I did not receive any further communication from you regarding the…sensitive matter we discussed. I became concerned for your health. I “hitched a ride” as you would put it, on the USS Farragut, and beamed over to the Enterprise as soon as we were within range.”

“You came to check he hadn’t killed me.” Jim was oddly touched.

“That is correct. And I am extremely pleased to see that he did not.”

Spock sighed a little, his posture defeated. “I fear that it was not through lack of effort.”

The old Vulcan nodded, his eyes sharp and clear as he regarded his younger counterpart. “I was not completely certain you would succeed. I am glad you were able to maintain control.”

“I was not. The Captain-“

“Spock, he doesn’t have to hea-“

“Captain, please. I could not maintain control. Jim saved my life by allowing me to – I almost killed him.”

Spock Prime touched the other Vulcan on the shoulder, reassuringly. Something passed between them, but Jim couldn’t make it out. However when they parted, his Spock looked much calmer.

“You are bonded,” he said suddenly, and Jim flushed at his keen observation.

“You can tell, huh?”

“Indeed.”

“So do I assume that you both came to the decision mutually?”

“I am afraid not. I forced the bond during my Pon Farr,” his Spock said stiffly. “We corrected it later.”

“It was consensual then,” Jim cut in, not wanting Spock to seem like a bastard. “He showed me how to do it.”

They reached a briefing room, and Spock Prime indicated he would like to enter. “I have many things to discuss with you both.”

They sat, Spock at his side and the old Vulcan opposite them both.

 

-

 

His older self. Spock was always fascinated to be face to face with a possible version of his future. The conversation between Spock Prime and Jim was easy, friendly, and Spock felt a little out of place.

But he had not maintained control- he _must_ explain. He had almost killed his Captain, had hurt him and raped him and now Jim would barely touch him and it was all his fault and he couldn’t see how it would ever get better-

 _Nam'uh hayal, Spock._ Spock Prime’s hand on his shoulder was calming, the touch facilitating a link. _Your place is at his side, and it always will be. He will forgive. My Jim forgave me my many faults for all our years together, and I his. You are meant to be. I can see it in you both._

_But how can I forgive myself? I-_

_His forgiveness will heal your wounds also. Trust in him._

_I do._

_Then you are already at an advantage. It took many years for me and Jim to allow ourselves to love. We knew each other for twenty eight years. It may sound like a lifetime, but I assure you, it was not enough. You cannot make the same mistake._

_I will try._

Spock Prime released him, and Spock realised that he felt much better, the older him clearly having transferred some calm emotions to his mind.

Of course he knew they were bonded. He had been bonded once, to a version of Jim similar enough for it to be painful when he saw this one. Spock knew this; he caught a fleeting glimpse of it in Spock Prime’s mind as they were talking. The old Vulcan had recalled an image of his own Jim-older, fatter certainly, but with the same open, warm face he knew on his Captain. The memory was tinted with sadness and love and pain, and Spock had pulled back from it before he intruded upon his older counterpart’s thoughts too much.

They entered the briefing room, and Spock waited for someone to begin.

 

-

 

“I must come to the conclusion that you have not resolved your emotions for each other,” Spock Prime said finally, forthright. Jim gaped. _Well no shit, how the fuck did you-_

_That may have been my fault, Captain._

“We….haven’t really spoken about it,” Kirk said slowly.

“Indeed. I must suggest that you _do._ ” He blinked slowly, looking for all the world like he was a dating show host.

“What, now?”

“Will this be an issue?”

_Very fucking likely._

_I must concur._

“I…don’t know.”

Spock Prime rested his hands on the desk, leaning back serenely. “Let me assist. Spock; would you like to begin by telling the Captain how you feel?”

“I would not.”

“I was not asking.”

 _Pleasedon’tmakemesaythishe’llhateme-_ was what Jim got from Spock’s mind. So he _didn’t_ like him. Spock clearly was scared to say what he felt because he knew it would make Jim sad to be rejected again. Why hadn’t he seen it before?

 _No, no-_ Spock thought at him desperately.

_Then what the hell, Spock._

“I…feel…a great many things,” Spock began hesitantly after losing the glaring match to his older self.

“I feel anger, and jealousy. I feel sorrow and pain at the memory of watching you die.” He paused, looking pleadingly at Spock Prime, who shook his head.

“I feel – joy- at knowing you, at working by your side. I feel contentment when you look at me.”

Kirk stared, stunned.

“And I feel more- I feel shame, I feel deep, painful regret that I hurt you, Jim.”

_I know, it’s okay Spock- I’m sorry, I-_

“And.” He took in a deep breath, gripping the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles had turned white. “I feel…love.”

“Love?”

“Love, Captain. For you. And I understand that it is unacceptable.”

_It’s not unacceptable, Spock, I don’t-_

_You indicated through the bond that you were unwilling to admit to any feeling-_

_I-I’m sorry, I didn’t-_

Spock Prime cleared his throat. “Captain?”

Jim’s mouth went dry suddenly, his heart thudding painfully. _What the fuck do I say?_ He stared at Spock for a long, silent moment, trying to understand _himself_ what he really felt. He thought back to their first mission, of the bitter arguments and the petty fights. He remembered the slow, careful friendship that built between them like a bridge of playing cards- fragile and tenuous, but always _there_ and somehow surviving.

He remembered Spock’s fingers pressed against that cold glass, remembered being so desperate to touch him that he unconsciously copied the positioning of his hand. He recalled Spock’s face, tear streaked and _raw_ , looking at him like he was the most precious thing in the world and he was being lost, and how beautiful he had looked as he allowed himself to feel.

Waking up- he remembered Spock being there again, his face so full of relief and happiness that Kirk could barely recognise him. He remembered kissing Spock’s knuckles, trying to ease the pain of their injury, that night they had shared and needed so much.

Everything became blurry as Jim realised he was crying silently, his memories now caught up to the previous eight months- remembering seeing Spock always at his side, his gaze steady and calming. Knowing Spock would be there to save him, to bring him back to his ship and his friends if anything went wrong. Learning to trust him despite his unemotional exterior, and knowing that at least some of his personality was rubbing off on Spock. And finally he recalled how desperately Spock had tried not to hurt him when he succumbed to Pon Farr, running off to the furthest part of the ship to avoid him and the other crew mates.

_Oh, shit. I totally fucking love him, don’t I?_

He looked up at Spock, and realised he didn’t need to say a word- Spock had caught it all through their bond, and he was looking back at Jim with that same needy, raw expression that he had given him eight months ago. His thoughts were pained.

  _I thought you did not wish to think of these things because I disgusted you._

_Don’t be stupid._

 

-

 

Spock Prime stood, giving them a satisfied look. “I believe I can leave you to your thoughts,” he said with a hint of smugness Spock recognised in himself. He ached for the older Spock’s broken bond, knowing now that the old Vulcan had come to ensure that they would have a good start, a quicker beginning to their bond so that hopefully they would have more time than he had been allowed. Spock stood, wanting to thank him but not having the words.

“Forgive each other,” Spock Prime said softly. “You have so much to learn, so much joy to feel. You cannot allow your past or your flaws to burden you like I did.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to interfere in our paths?” Jim said with a small smile.

“I…felt that this was a constant between timelines that had to be encouraged,” the old Vulcan replied with a twinkle in his eye. “Someone had to come and talk some sense into both of you.”

 _Indeed,_ Spock thought to Jim. _I feel as though he has merely done what he has planned to do for many months._

_You get that feeling too, huh?_

Spock Prime gave the Vulcan salute to Spock. “Again, I am not entirely certain the traditional words would be appropriate, so I must say “good luck” once more.”

Spock almost smiled as he returned the gesture. “Thank you.”

 

They arrived at the transporter room in time to catch Uhura about to beam across. “Ah, Lieutenant!” Spock Prime said warmly. “I will accompany you.”

Jim seemed confused at Nyota’s appearance. _What’s going on?_

_She’s transferring for a few months- I forgot to mention to you-_

_Shit was it because-_

_Yes, I am afraid so, Captain. We discussed it at length. She will return in six months._

“Uhura,” Jim smiled at her. “You going to be alright?” Spock noticed the way Nyota looked nervously at him, and was saddened.

“Yes, Captain. I am sorry I didn’t ask your permission- I didn’t want to interrupt-“

“Uh…yeah. It’s not a problem. Be safe, though, okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” she rolled her eyes.  “And can you two try not to kill each other while I’m gone?”

“No promises,” Kirk said, grinning at Spock. He found he could not help but return the expression slightly, watching as Jim’s eyes widened in delight. _Hah, knew you could smile, you stoic bastard._

_Indeed._

“Nyota,” Spock began, but found himself at a loss.

“It’s alright,” she replied, and stepped onto the transporter with Spock Prime. She wagged her finger at Kirk. “And don’t go replacing me.”

“As if we could.”

The transporter hummed, and with a wave of light, Uhura and Spock Prime had gone, leaving Spock and Jim to figure out why they felt like they’d just been set up with one another.

 

-

 

It was several months later that they saw Spock Prime again, and it was from a distance at an Federation event. Spock and Jim had been forced to attend, and their dress uniforms were tight and restrictive.

_I’m telling you, this is boring._

_I cannot find a rebuttal._

Jim was beginning to like this bond- he could bitch all he liked and no one would have a clue. _And_ it was brilliant for distracting Spock- one well timed image of them fucking and the Vulcan would blush for hours. Perfect for boring shifts on the bridge. Spock in turn made a game out of placing seemingly innocuous innuendos in his reports to the Captain, delighting in giving Jim a hard on while he sat in his chair.

_Look, it’s you!_

_Excuse me?_

_Old you- there-_

_Oh, I see. For a moment there I was concerned you were seeing double after imbibing too much alcohol._

_The night is young, Spock._

_I await the point at which I am forced to carry you from the room with eager anticipation, Captain._

Jim grinned, waving at Spock Prime. The old Vulcan was in the middle of negotiations with what looked like a giant purple snail, but he returned the wave, giving Jim a smug smile to see them together still. Jim rolled his eyes and made a gesture that was meant to mean “can’t get rid of him” but looked more like “I’m hanging from a tree.” He hoped Spock Prime didn’t take it the wrong way.

Spock looked at him fondly, and Jim’s heart stopped for a second.

_I saw you making a strange gesture- what does it mean?_

_Means I love you, Spock._

_You are a terrible liar, Jim._

_Doesn’t mean I don’t, though._ He gave Spock a winning smile.

_That will not always get you out of trouble._

_Is it working this time?_

_Perhaps._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who got this far. I really didn't want to do a soft, gentle, sickly sweet Pon Farr- because that just isn't how it works, despite what some people want to think. In TOS he was not fluffy and happy and loving when in Pon Farr, remember- he was ready to kill.


End file.
